


lollipop lollipop, oh lolli lolli lolli, lollipop

by Amaranth (Ladyboo)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Consensual, Deepthroating, Fingerfucking, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Prostate Milking, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 14:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyboo/pseuds/Amaranth
Summary: A peer into the bag showed it to be candy, fat ended, bulbous lollipops and he had snatched one out of the bag and pulled it free of its plastic, dropped the bag with the rest down in the passenger footwell and stuffed the cotton candy flavored treat between his lips.





	lollipop lollipop, oh lolli lolli lolli, lollipop

**Author's Note:**

> This has parent/child incest. This is highly consensual, and covers mature themes, and you have been warned.

Flickering gas station lights and the quiet hum of the engine ticking down where she no longer ran. Windows half cracked to encourage a breeze, the off-sour burn of gasoline in the air and the rattle of another car going by. A huff as Dean adjusted in his sleep, a faint creak of leather as he moved, but he didn’t wake and John was only gone a few minutes. Long enough to grab a few bottles of soda, long enough to grab tightly sealed gas station food that Sam peered at before stuffing down in the footwell in the back. Long enough to drop a secondary bag in Sam’s lap before shutting his door, before peeling out from beneath the flow of flickering lights. 

A peer into the bag showed it to be candy, fat ended, bulbous lollipops and he had snatched one out of the bag and pulled it free of its plastic, dropped the bag with the rest down in the passenger footwell and stuffed the cotton candy flavored treat between his lips. 

The same rocking motion that had taken the car when they’d left the hunt had taken his brothers bones with it, had dropped Dean into the spineless sort of sleep of the perpetually exhausted. Nothing but the sound of his breathing if Sam listened hard enough between the pauses in the music, nothing but Jimmy Rogers filled the familiar confines of the impala as it ambled down the winding road in the post midnight quiet. Familiar music and familiar breathing, he knew this car like he knew these people and Sam had stopped his careful page turning and had set his Dad’s journal back in the glovebox. 

Had tipped sideways to lean his head against John’s shoulder while he rolled his tongue around the sweet candy. 

“Taste good?”

Turning his face up enough that he could see the outline of John’s in the dark, Sam gave a long lashed blink and pulled the lolli free with a wet sound and a chain of glittering saliva. 

“You wanna try it?”

A flash of white as John smiled at him, a jostling motion as he lifted his arm so Sam could curl up under it instead. Sam fell against his chest, arm still held aloft, but John just shook his head. 

“Nah sweetheart, got em for you. Thank you though.”

His hand fell just to Sam’s ribcage and he squeezed a little bit, wide palmed and long fingered and warm. He smelled chocolatey, rich and earthen and deep, the same curling, soothing scent that Sam had known his entire life. He pressed a bit closer then even as he tapped the lollipop against the closed seam of his lips then and Sam sighed. The motion made him twist a bit, made him slide a bit, moved John’s hand until it slipped across his chest and through the wide armhole of his tank top. 

Tongue curling out against the blue lolli, Sam tilted his head back until he could see John and the outline of his bearded jaw. John didn’t spare him a glance, eyes on the dark road for all that it was empty, bit his wide knuckled fingers shifted and curled. A calloused thumb swept across his nipple and Sam inhaled sharply, chest pressing into the touch even as the lolli clacked against his teeth. 

“Bu-”

“Shush sweetheart, you don’t want to wake your brother, do you?”

That thumb swept slow across his nipple again in a drag of a rough touch. Lollipop between his lips, there was little he could do other than clench his teeth on the sturdy, hard plastic stick that held the candy. Back and forth, back and forth, a harsh drag until his flesh peaked, his belly quivering and his bare toes curling, Sam’s mouth fell open as John drew the just sharp enough bite of his nail beneath the peaked tip. 

_ “Daddy!” _

Blue tinged saliva set a gloss across his tongue where it peeked out and he could see the faint of John’s smile then, the curl of his lip and the cut of his teeth. The dark of night had shadowed over his eyes though, had shadowed over much more than his mouth and his jaw. The lolli crackled against the back of his teeth again as John ran his nail along Sam’s sensitive nipple, as he swallowed the cotton candy saliva that had pooled in his mouth. 

“Hush Samuel, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

A quiet sound but he sealed his lips around the lolli again, sucked on it just for something to keep him occupied, keep him quiet. A ball of flavored sugar wasn’t going to keep him distracted from how John flicked his thumb nail against his nipple and made Sam’s hips twitch. No amount of cracking it against his teeth could save him from the way his little cock had started to plump up in the slippery fabric confines of his gym shorts. 

He sucked on the lollipop though, head still tipped back so he could watch the shark sharp of John’s smile. Jimmy Rogers crooned on from the radio while Dean slept the blissful, ignorant sleep of the completely unaware and Sam held his breath. Held his breath as John’s hand came back from his tank top only to slide down his chest and abdomen with a heavy handed pet. John’s face didn’t move though, not as he flattened those fingers and moved them down the quiver of Sam’s belly, driving one handed in the dark. 

His quiet whine was lost under the music as John got that hand under the waistband of both his shorts and his underwear in a quick, seamless motion. 

As John wrapped a big, calloused hand around his cocklet, just wet enough from the dribble of Sam’s own precome and gave a squeeze, a stroke. 

His hips came clean off the seat, a reflexive thrust that he couldn’t control even as his bare feet scrambled against the floorboards that John had made them clean out not two days prior. His hips came up and his head fell further against John’s chest, the angle was tight, it hinged his torso and constricted his breathing. But his little hand grabbed a fistful of John’s denim clad thigh and he held on for dear life. 

“Put your legs up against the door.”

The same conversational tone he had used since Dean had started to fall asleep, since the back bench seat had gone quiet. He used it now like he didn’t have a hand wrapped around Sam’s cocklet, like he didn’t press his thumb against the head and make Sam’s stomach clench. His teeth clamped down on the hard cotton candy sugar and his eyes narrowed, his chest heaved.

Dean hadn’t made a sound though, and John still had that half illuminated shark grin on his lips and he had told Sam to move. 

It took him a minute to get his legs to move, to get his feet and hips to do what he wanted. He braced his weight on John’s thigh and used that hand to keep himself steady until his legs were bent the little bit necessary to let him lean back against John’s chest with his feet against the door. Sam felt the pressure on the top of his head where John had pressed a kiss, but the eldest Winchester hadn’t ceased the lazy, wrist flicking motion of his rough hand on Sam’s cocklet and instead he gave another pull when Sam finally settled. 

“There, comfortable?”

Open mouthed around his lollipop while his thin hips flexed, Sam swallowed sticky, sugary saliva to respond. But his words were lost on a thin moan, but his voice was reed thin and wavering, but his fingers dug tighter still into John’s thigh. 

_ “Ah!” _

That gun calloused thumb traced in circles just below the weeping head of his cocklet and Sam’s head tipped heavy against his father's chest. He blinked up at John with lidded eyes and sooty lashes and his little blue stained tongue peeked out as he licked his lips around the candy. 

He tried to strain up for a kiss in the dark but John tightened his grip, ground his thumb against the little swell of nerves he had found and Sam went boneless against him even as his hips thrust sporadically against John’s fist. Electric tight heat in his belly and in his veins and Sam didn’t know whether to fuck his hips up into the pleasure or try to get away. 

Dean was in the backseat, and he had never been good at keeping quiet, no matter how much John told him to. 

“Da-Daddy, I don’t think thi- _ hn! _ ”

Quick little, harsh little circles against the slit on the head of his cocklet and Sam’s eyes rolled. He couldn’t talk like this, he couldn’t barely breathe like this, quiet little moans huffing out from between his blue tinged lips. John let go of the wheel then and Sam hoped they were on a straight section of road, Sam hoped there were no other cars around, and he used a single thick finger on that hand to tap at the underside of Sam’s chin until he sealed his mouth around the lolli. 

“Be a quiet boy and finish your candy, Sammy.”

Maybe, hopefully, his Daddy would have bruises on his thigh. Maybe he would have Sam’s fingerprints, maybe he would have a reminder for this when he left Sam behind in the library to go on a hunt. As it stood now though, Sam had nothing but the fire in his veins and the way his chest felt tight, but John’s hand was all kinds of lazy and unhurried. Like he intended to do this for however long it took Sam to finish the lolli, like he wouldn’t let him come until he had.

Sam crunched his teeth down on the hard candy until it broke to pieces and nursed on those, swallowing as little of his own saliva as he could. John was in no rush though, John took his time and kept his touch just tight enough that Sam could feel his muscles twitching and he ground his teeth against the cotton candy flavored sugar. He lived on the edge then, hips jerking up against his father's hand and his stomach quivering lips clamped tight against the plastic of the lolli and the hand that didn’t grip John’s thigh stuffed over his mouth just for good measure. 

Moments spent with his tongue and teeth working furiously on the flavored sugar even as his breath caught in his chest, even as his body felt ready to catch fire, even as he could feel the explosive curl of his release right there, right there,  _ right there. _

No lollipop left, he pulled the straw of it free with the hand that had held his mouth. A thin chain of glittering blue saliva connected it to his lips, but the lack of candy was clear even in the dark. Nothing but an opaque, white plastic stick, nothing but a faint tinge of blue on the upper quarter of it. 

And John’s hand stopped.

Using his grip on John’s thigh, Sam pushed himself upright, a heaving motion that caused his legs to bend, caused his little boy thin spine to arch with the pull. It would have trapped John’s hand had the elder not pulled it free, would have made Sam’s movements awkward and uncertain. But John pulled his hand free and Sam bent himself nearly in half to find the bag his lollipop had come from, to find the crinkle plastic of the wrapper and bind it tight around the stick. He drew himself up to his knees then, caught the way John watched him with those post midnight dark eyes as he swayed a little where he had gotten himself upright. 

John didn’t say anything though, just watched him where he swayed, just watched him when he pulled John’s thighs a little further apart and tipped himself forward. Bent over his folded knees and used his fingertips to quietly ease down the zipper in his jeans, pulled the fat throb of his cock free with one little hand. Sam tipped his head then so he could see his father's face, and he arched his back even as he lifted his ass, a sinful curve to his spine. He gave a little wriggle to his hips than, a little playful and a little teasing and Sam dipped his head.

And Sam opened his mouth, and let a string of dark blue saliva dribble along the head of his fathers cock, pooling in the dip in the head before spilling over to trail along the flared head and down the fat shaft. He swallowed what was left of the candy saliva that had collected in his mouth and Sam felt John’s thigh strain under his hands. He dipped lower still and ran the flat of his tongue across the head of his fathers familiar cock from one edge to the other, laved his tongue against the slit and tasted the salty start of precome where it mixed with the cloying sweet sugar that had coated his mouth. 

Another slow rasp of his tongue, and he pressed a kiss to the slit just in time to feel John’s hand put a gentle, petting pressure on his head. He pressed into it for a brief moment before Sam sank down, before his lips spread slow as his mouth opened up to fit that cock on his tongue. A breath through his nose and he eased himself down until the head pressed heavy and blunt against the back of his throat. 

He had never gone further than this before. 

“Sam-”

He swallowed, tasted sticky, cotton candy sugar and the salt of his fathers skin, the chocolatey rich of his scent sharper here, darker here. He swallowed and John’s cockhead slipped past the muscle there and into the hot clutch of his throat. John swore above him, probably a little louder than he had intended, but Dean didn’t wake in the backseat and John’s fingers had curled tight in the just long enough strands of Sam’s hair. A fistful there, he gave a harsh pull, twisted a bit even though he didn’t try to pull Sam off, but the boy moaned all the same, but he went boneless enough that his mouth and throat sank a few inches further until his blue stained lips pressed an open kiss around the base. 

“Fuck, Sam.” His tone wasn’t conversational anymore, rough with the kind of gritty curl that Sam was used to hearing when Dean wasn’t around, when Dean was asleep in the other room. “Look at that, sweetheart. You been practicing for Daddy?”

A muffled sound, a lips spread wide and his head spinning, Sam had gone so loose that his chest nearly touched the smooth leather seat. Spine curled, he swallowed again, throat fluttering around John’s cock and he felt the quiet rumble when his father moaned. That tight, pinprick pleasure pull on his hair eased up, and with the lack of it, Sam blinked. Braced his hands beneath himself and lifted up, a slow pull until just the head remained on his tongue where he could worry it there, where he could suckle at it. 

That hand curled on the back of his throat, rough calloused finger and thumb pressure on his jugular on either side and he sucked still, hollowed cheeks and a full stuffed mouth. A heavy pet that moved, from the back of his throat to the dip between his shoulders, the curve of his spine. Steady, traveling pressure as Sam bobbed his head along the familiar, thick pulse of John’s cock. Quiet slurping sounds almost lost under the crooning of Jimmy Rogers, candy sticky saliva turned salty and thick with precome, it bubbled around his lips, it bubbled at the base of John’s cock. 

A touch to the base of his spine and he arched his hips a little further up, curved his spine a little more. Felt the sudden, slight chill as John tucked both the elastic of his gym shorts and his underwear beneath his ass and instead in secured it ag the small pull of his balls. His body jolted then, his mouth paused and he tilted his head to stare up at John, full mouth and blue saliva bubble sticky cheeks. John didn’t look away from the road though, the same blase look he usually wore when he drove at night, and Sam wouldn’t have known any better if he hadn’t felt John’s hand on him.

It he hadn’t felt thumb and pinky hold his cheeks apart, if he hadn’t felt two rouch fingers smear insistently against his still loose rim. He was still lax there, still sloppy there, still wet from where John had fucked him while Dean had gone to a bar, still full from where John had creamed him while Dean tossed shot after shot down his throat. He could still feel it, knew the stretch and the faint burn at the start and the way he always moaned, high and thin and quivering at the first full, deep slide. 

“Look at that.”

Those two fingers pulled at the body warm come there, dipped in just enough to smooth it around his rim. Sam swallowed and opened his throat just in time to take John’s cockhead deep, just in time to have John stuff those two thick fingers in to the third knuckles with a practiced, smooth curl. He moaned then, as best he could with his mouth and throat stuffed full, moaned against John’s cock and was rewarded with a thrust of those fingers. 

His whole body shook, thighs shivering even as he tried to spread them further, tried to take more. John pressed those fingers in until his palm was flat against the smooth skin of Sam’s tailbone, until those two fingers had gone as deep as he could get them. Thich, fat knuckled and wide and Sam’s eyes rolled, his his stuttered back against the deep, full feeling. 

_ “Plh!” _

Mouth full, he couldn’t get a single word out but he tried anyway, tried to beg around the fat bulge of his fathers cock on his tongue. 

“Hush sweetheart.”

Conversational again, John was conversational again, the calm, relaxed kind of tone that Sam had heard him use with victims before over the phone. He used it now, like waking Dean was something that Sam wanted to do, like getting  _ caught _ was something that Sam wanted, and he sank in a third finger when Sam tried to respond. Fucked them in on a dirty, grinding kind of motion, testing the give of his ass and the wet slosh of leftover come from only a few hours prior, fingertips pulling at his rim and spreading out wide instead of sliding free. 

Sam’s eyes rolled, and he gurgled, bubbled sugar blue saliva and precome around the base of his fathers cock and titled his hips up further into the electric burn feeling of it. He swallowed around the salt heavy bulge of his cock and forced himself to find his bearings again, to slide his mouth across hot, musky flesh and swirl his tongue around the slit in the head where precome had gathered. John gave shallow thrusts of his hips, thigh smacking against Sam’s chin in a slow, restrained mockery of the way he had sank those three fingers in as deep as he could. 

A slow, restrained mockery of the way that he started to fuck them in furiously, a mimicry of the motion he had made just a few hours when he had held Sam up and fucked into him against the door so hard that he had cried, so much that he had come untouched not once but twice. 

He used that lewd, sinful piston of his fingers now, and Sam’s feet scrambled and slid out from under him, thumped quietly against the door panel as he tried to tip his hips up into the fire that had taken his nerves, as he tried to distance himself from the  _ too much, too much, too much. _ Every hard thrust rocked him, pushed his throat back around John’s cock and John used that as an anchor, a tether to keep Sam tied in and pinned where he wanted him. It didn’t mean much if that was exactly where Sam wanted to be though, wouldn’t give up anything for the feeling of his mouth full and his head spinning, of his legs quivering and his nerves licking lightning against his bones. He loved this cock, he loved these fingers, and he loved how John took him apart with a heavy handed, just harsh enough kind of touch like he knew Sam could take it, like he knew Sam wanted it. 

He angled his hand down and pushed just enough, those three fingers grinding a hard, steady pressure against his swollen prostate. Sam choked, loud and gurgling and hard, and his legs gave out enough that his knees slid. The angle forced John’s fingers to press harder, rough calloused skin and wide tips and those were tears in his eyes. His fingers twisted in John’s thigh and he hoped it bruised, he hoped it left a reminder of this ride and what John had done to him even as he gagged, even as he took too much. 

“D’d?”

He couldn’t breathe. 

Dean, awake and talking even if he wasn’t necessarily coherent, Dean with the creak of leather like he was going to get up, like he was going to sit up. John didn’t stop rubbing the flat of his fingers against Sam’s prostate though, didn’t stop making him cry and silently shake while his little cocklet jerked between his thighs. 

“Go back to sleep, Dean.”

“I thought I hea-”

Those fingers pressed confident lover greedy against his insides and Sam’s eyes rolled, his fingers gripped John’s thigh as tight as he could manage while his tongue wriggled, pinned beneath the fat weight of his cock. 

“I just Sam back to sleep. You’re still drunk son, do you want to wake your brother?”

Quiet, silence, silence beyond the crooning of Jimmy Rogers, quiet beyond the visceral pound of his own heart in his ears. 

“Ye’h. M’kay, I’m gonna, night Dad.”

Creaking leather then as he fell back down, a rustle as he no doubt threw his jacket back over his face. As his feet propped on the door and he got comfortable, it took a few minutes for his breathing to level. But John hadn’t let up, hadn’t ceased the insistent, dirty pressure as his fingers milked Sam’s prostate. As he made Sam’s hips stutter and his breathing feel tight, as he stuffed his mouth and throat over full and didn’t let him get away from the maelstrom burn of pleasure. 

A whole song went by before John spoke again, before he even acknowledge that Sam  _ wasn’t _ sleeping in the front seat. 

“I’m going to make you come like this.”

He couldn’t catch his breath enough to do anything other than gurgle around his mouthful of cock, than hum around it and hold on for dear life as John used the pressure from his hand to make Sam’s hips twitch and shake in his hold, to make his swollen rim flutter wildly around his fingers. 

He didn’t dare disagree, he didn’t want to disagree, drooling around his fathers cock and crying from the constant pres to his prostate. He was going to come like that, he wanted to come like that, wanted to be torn apart with his cock untouched like John always did to him each and every time. He wanted it, he wanted it, he wanted-

John shifted his fingers, dragged them back across his prostate in a staccato quick flurry and his vision whited out. Every muscle locked tight, his jaw went slack, a burst of pleasure through his veins as his toes curled, as his hole vice gripped at John’s fingers. Splatters of come painted the inside of his underwear as his cocklet throbbed, his sobs muffled around John’s cock as the elder Winchester continued to grind his fingers in deep and draw his orgasm out until Sam went boneless, until Sam went limp.

Until Sam’s whole body went slank and he sank as far as John’s cock in his mouth and John’s fingers in his ass would let him. One last little mean swipe of his fingers against Sam’s prostate caused his breath to be another muffled sob, caused more hot tears to spill from the corners of his eyes. His fingers slid free even if John paused just long enough to stretch and tug at his rim before he knotted them on the inside of Sam’s shorts and dried them. He tugged Sam’s underwear and shorts up with a single quick tug and for a moment, his hand was gone. 

His whole body trembled, fine boned and his blood sang, his shorts were wet. Mouth full, his jaw had gone slack, his lids had gone heavy and his vision was a slit of the steering wheel and Johns thigh, he had lost his grip on John’s thigh and had instead slid down until his chin rested against the open zip of his jeans, until his blue stained lips kissed at the fat base of his cock.

John fisted that hand in his hair again and Sam was too fucked out and boneless to do much more than give a weak, quiet moan. A low chuckle from above him and John twisted his grip then, John used that hold on the back of his skull to pull Sam’s wet, hot mouth up from the base of his cock. He had just enough left in him to move his tongue, to give a weak bit of suction as John held his head just high enough that the precome leaking head remained on his tongue and he tasted cotton candy sugar as much as he tasted his fathers cock. 

And then John pushed his head back down, just rough enough that Sam gagged a bit, that his slitted eyes watered. He could barely catch his breath on the upstroke, his arms shook too much to get his hands beneath himself. It didn’t seem to be enough, not quite, not really, John used that grip and forced his head back down, held Sam in place as he took his foot off the gas and flexed his hips, as he fucked up into Sam’s throat so hard that his breathing was nothing more than a series of wet, punched sounds. 

_ “Fuck _ , so good for Daddy, aren’t you? Such a good boy, letting Daddy fuck your tight little ass, letting Daddy come down your little fucking  _ throat.” _

Rough words, low and gravelly and thick, Sam could feel his balls smack against his cheek through the denim of his jeans one final time before John stilled. Before he held Sam in place with that same sinful, punishing grip that bruised his hips and his thighs every time John was there and held Sam’s head in place. The fat cock in his mouth throbbed and that cockhead that had pushed into his throat pulsed a hot stream of come down his throat. Sam moaned, quiet and wet and infinitely pleased with himself as John’s hips twitched, as John used that same grip to pull Sam fast and hard up off of his cock. 

He hadn’t even had the chance to swallow completely before he had to try and brace a weak muscled hand on John’s chest, before John nearly pulled Sam into his lap. His sensitive little cocklet throbbed in his underwear, he could see Dean quietly snoring in the back, and John’s eyes were post midnight dark and bright with a familiar light that made Sam want to make him pull over so he could sit on his dick. 

Instead, John used that fistful of his hair to seal their mouths together, stubble scratching his cheeks and his fathers tongue curling against his. 

_ “Good boy.” _


End file.
